Writing One Word At A Time

I like to think of myself as an effective communicator. Clearly I am delusional. Last night, Brian and Bailey went to see a movie. It was after dinner, so I told Brian that Bailey could have dessert there. Now, Bailey thinks that dessert covers anything that the concession stand sells. Pizza? Popcorn? Nachos? Yes, all of those would be considered dessert to Bailey. I clearly told my spouse that non-dessert items that would be considered a snack or a meal would be unacceptable. I also said to Bailey that he may have water and M&Ms or another acceptable sweet goodness. My mistake was telling Bailey and only Bailey about drinking water with his dessert. Apparently, I wasn’t specific enough. You all probably know where this is going, but hold on, there is a twist.

When they arrived home, Bailey was telling me about the movie and how great it was. I asked what he selected for his dessert and he told me that he had M&Ms and an Icee. Head. Might. Pop. Off. My eyes narrowed at him and here was our conversation.

“Bailey, I told you that you had to drink water.” Brian walks in at that moment. I ask him, “What were you thinking?” He responds, “You didn’t tell me that he had to drink water.” Let’s pause the remainder of the conversation for a background check of my husband’s shitty genetics. Diabetes, heart disease, high blood pressure, well you get the idea, are just the tip of the iceberg. It is a shit show of epic proportions. So, Bailey who already has hypothyroidism is a prime candidate to inherit some of these amazing health additions plus he has other factors associated with Down syndrome stacked against him. The fact that I even need to utter the words “no Icee” makes absolutely no sense to me. Anyway, here is the rest of the conversation.

“He did grab a water, but I asked him if he would rather have an Icee.” What. The. Hell. (The F word would be more appropriate, but Facebook frowns on the use of it. Just know I would rather use it than hell.)

I turn to Bailey who looks like a deer in headlights. He responds, “I didn’t want to hurt Dad’s feelings.” I call bullshit, but I will give him credit. He certainly knows how to lay it on thick. I laughed, but realized that with these two, I need to bring my A game. I have to cover my bases always and get creative because these two have a tendency to outwit me. Every. Single. Time.

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Published by allisonjones2

I am a writer/blogger residing in Louisville, Kentucky, whose writing has appeared in The Courier-Journal, TOPS Louisville, and a variety of other publications. I cuss a little, but I do love Jesus. My writing is really just an online diary that is layered in humor sharing my human struggles while juggling writing, family, and my fur babies.
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